ancestors, Christmas, generational gap, grandparents, holiday pain, loss, memories, mixed black and white, mixed race, raised by grandparents, Sisters White Christmas, Sitting with the pain

Sitting With The Pain 12/23/16

12/23/16
The holiday pain
I know I’m not alone in it
Looking through pictures 
Lost loves
Lost moments
Lost opportunities 
The warm comforting smells and sounds
The smiles and laughter 
Cookies with grandma
Sitting with the pain means feeling it all
All of the good
All of loss
All of the pain
acceptance, blog, blogger, blogging, choices, Clarity, codependency, connection, dealing with emotions, divorce, emotional affair, Emotions, escaping reality, facing the truth, faith, First things first, God, healing, higher power, honesty, insecure attachment, know thyself, let go and let God, letting go, loneliness, loss, love, marriage, marriage therapy, memories, obsessive thoughts, one day at a time, reality, Self acceptance, self awareness, Sitting with the pain, spiritual journey, sponsor, sponsorship, surrender, therapy, Thy will be done, transformation, trapped, trusting God, Universe, writing

All In 100%

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10/25/16
My friend was right.  The outer rings are where transformation takes place.  It’s so uncomfortable there that you can’t stay long.  You’re either moving in, back to healthy living and healthy choices.  Or your moving out, come what may.

I’ve been in the outer rings for almost a week now.   It’s been so painful, nearly unbearable.  But today, through many conversations I finally got the message.  I can’t be 100% all in for my marriage and hold on to my plan B at the same time.
I’ve decided that I owe it to myself and to my children to give the next 6 months of marriage therapy my 100%, to be all in on a heart level, no matter what the outcome.  I also realized today, that I’m gripping so tightly to my plan B, so afraid to let it go.  Why is that?  I don’t even know who he is.  I don’t know if he is available.  I don’t know if he’s safe or honest.  Maybe the whole experience was just a big joke on me, or worse, maybe it was just all in my head.   Yet, this connection (that most of the people in my life call a fantasy) has such a grip on my heart.  I guess therapy will help me uncover why.  I mean, what do I really hope to gain by pursuing this?
I’m praying to let go of my plan B.  Only then will I be able to fully give my marriage a chance to survive.  It takes me trusting God to bring into, and out of, my life exactly whom I need. Right now, God has brought my husband into my life.  My husband says that he is 100% all in to make our marriage work.
Thy will be done.

 

Bi polar type 2, cognitive behavioral therapy, escaping reality, grief, loss

Acceptance

10/4/16
“I don’t have to like reality, I just have to accept it,” (A quote from a book that has helped me a lot recently.)

I need to write.  I need to share my heart and my feelings, first with myself and then with trusted friends.
I’m missing him.  I’m missing the attention, the affection, the longing, the excitement, the challenge, the mystery.  It made me feel important and alive and valued.  I felt known and understood or misunderstood but accepted and wanted.  I’m missing that, and I’m missing the fantasy of what he might be thinking about me, the fantasy of what others might be thinking about me or about us.  I miss the fantasy of what he and I could have together or be together, even if it was just in a virtual world.  But, I knew that the virtual world wasn’t enough for me.  I wanted to know who he was in reality.  I wanted to try to build a life with him in reality.
This is where acceptance comes in.  In my reality, the virtual world was sucking the life from my real world and from me.  As time progressed, I wasn’t sleeping, I wasn’t eating enough, I wasn’t cleaning my home or nurturing my children the way that I typically would.  I wasn’t interested in my husband or my marriage.  I wasn’t interested in my friends or family.  Over time, all I cared about was my online personality and online relationships. I felt like my online personality was really the real me.  Maybe that’s because I was still hiding the real me from the real people in my life, except for one or two people I really trusted.
As I got deeper into my online world, coupled with extreme naivety, I began to become suspicious, then paranoid, eventually I got the the point that I thought people were following me, thought my phone was being hacked, I even thought people had broken into my apartment and planted cameras.  I was losing it. Correction: I had lost it.  At this point, I opened up to my husband about everything that had been going on, because I was scared.  I even told him about feelings I was developing for a man online.  Next, I shared all of this with my psychologist and then a trusted friend.  The next step, was meeting with a psychiatrist for the first time in my life.  It was terrifying for me because my mom has schizophrenia and my biggest fear has always been that I would develop it.  I told the psychiatrist everything and he reassured me that I definitely don’t have schizophrenia.  But, the thing he said that sent me reeling was no more Instagram, and I had to cut off ties with the man that I felt I had made a connection with (in my mind and in my heart it was an emotional affair, at least on my part).  I never really knew where I stood with him, if he had feelings for me or even if he noticed me.  Maybe I was just some stalker in his mind.  Ugh! How humiliating.
So, accepting my reality is accepting that I can’t continue to try to build a connection with this man and keep my mental health intact at this point.

My health matters.  I matter.  My mental health matters.  I say this because up to this moment my only real motivation for staying off-line has been my fear of not being able to care for my children.  I love them so much and they are enough to keep me off of Instagram so far.  But I’m miserable.  I want to see that God is leading me to my greatest me.  That I am enough to be the reason.  That my health does matter.    My sanity matters.  I’m trying to trust my God.  To believe that He has something wonderful and better for me.  What I’m left with right now is not wonderful or better.  I’m left with the misery of my unhappy marriage and the tug of the comfortable lifestyle that makes me keep settling.

I like who my husband and I are to the outside world as a couple.  I like the money we make, the friends we have and the lifestyle we live.  I like the fun that we can have when we do things together with the kids. My husband is a great and attentive dad.  I like the way that he helps out with the kids and the chores; and I think about how hard it would be doing it all on my own.

I don’t want to accept the fact that I’m not happy in our marriage.  I don’t want to accept the fact that he doesn’t always give me freedom to do what I want and spend how I want.  It took someone else pointing it out before I realized that it’s all very controlled.  Is this just his way to keep me his?  For example, he has no problem with me dropping a couple hundred on shoes, clothes or salon, but he flips out when I want to spend $45 on a babysitter so I can attend a fellowship meeting for my own personal growth and support.
I have to accept that I feel like he has been controlling and isolating when it comes to me and the outside world.  I don’t think this has been intentional and I know I play an equal part, or even a larger part in my own isolation.

As I’m writing these things about my husband I am feeling fearful, (I’m not sure of what) and I want to reach out this other man.  I guess I look at him as my savior to rescue me from my husband and my marriage or at least distract me from my own misery.

I have to accept that the savior is a fantasy in my mind.  I don’t know who this person is or even how he feels or thinks about me.  I don’t know if this person is safe or unsafe, available or unavailable in reality.
I need to accept that the only people I have are my God, myself, and the circle of trusted friends.
culture clash, death, Father's Day, grandparents, grief, loss

Dad 6/26/16

6/26/16
I’ve been thinking about my dad recently.  I lost him to cancer when he was 50 years-old.  It was an undetected and extremely progressive cancer.  We went from finding out he had the disease to burying him in less then a year.  It was an excruciating process.

It’s been well over 10 years since he died and the pain has since dulled, even subsided.  But recently, I’ve been telling my son and daughter more about their grandpa and the amazing person that he was.

My kids went all out this year for their own father, my husband, for Father’s Day.  The video that they made for their dad brought him to tears.  It was a great day… but it was also, as my son called it, “a happy sad day.”  When my husband face-timed his dad with the kids to wish him a happy Father’s day, my in-laws would not show themselves in the camera.  My father-in-law also  wouldn’t speak to my husband, so he was not able to wish him happy Father’s Day.   The call ended with my mother-in-law telling my husband how disappointed they were that we didn’t send them money for Father’s Day and for my mother-in-law’s recent Birthday.  Our gift giving has been an ongoing challenge with them.  In the past, they chastised us for giving $85 instead of an even $100.  They said it showed we really didn’t care.  When I personally bought her a hat from Nordstrom, she made me go back with her to Nordstrom, return the hat in front of her, and then hand her the money.  It was a very shaming experience.  My husband made the decision not to put money in their cards recently, because he said money was tight these past few months since I stopped working to be a stay-at-home mom.

At the end of the night on Father’s Day, sitting in the dark as my kids fell asleep, I found myself in tears, missing my dad, wishing that he could have known my kids, that he could have met my husband, that my kids could have known and experienced their grandfather’s love.

It all hit me pretty hard.  My kids would have loved their grandpa.  He loved to be silly and goofy with his children — my sisters and I — just like their dad is with them.  My dad would have been so proud of his grandchildren and would have made them feel like a million dollars. This morning, I was again brought to tears as I thought about the racist Chinese laundry detergent commercial circulating the media right now.  I’m sad for my son, who may one day see that commercial when he’s older.  Today, at 5 years-old, he is innocent and oblivious to the racism against him, and that surrounds him.  I want to  protect him from it, but I know that I can’t.  I’m also sad thinking about my dad.  I’m glad that my dad will never have to see that commercial, but it breaks my heart that anyone would portray him, a black man, in such a mean and hurtful way.  He doesn’t deserve that, no one does.